Paragon of Destruction - Chapter 9 Master Firehear

A number of university students are given a simple survey in which they must watch a number of short films and rank them in order of preference. The reader takes the survey along with them with the short films being told as short stories.

Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment. Core Formation. In the current world, only these three realms are known to be achievable. Nascent Soul is but a legend and the realms above it lost to the the long river of time. The modern era is known as Cultivation Civilization, a balance of power and civility, excess and moderation. While cultivation remains a secret practice, it has long since exposed itself to the mundane world, quietly intertwined with each facet of society. While the world appears to be at peace, what lies underneath is a conflict between human, cultivator, and demon, brewing for ages and waiting to implode. Yet in the wake of humanity’s rapid industrialization, qi—and consequently cultivation—is dying.

Tangyuan was an excellent pulmonologist who, after an accidental death, acquired a system.By completing tasks in various fast-travel worlds, she would fulfill virtue and acquire a new life.The system chosen for her was the farming stream system, which included time-traveling through ancient times, the Republican era, apocalypse, modern times, and more.This fulfilled her joy of earning from nothing and also allowed her to enjoy the study of various professions within the fast-travel system.

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”